Sam Who?
by mariposafria
Summary: Mercedes' greatest pain has finally sprung her greatest joy!  Now updated and a TWO-SHOT.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. If I did things would be going so much better in my opinion.**

**Sam Who?**

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><p><strong>AN: Alrighty, this is my attempt to make myself feel better about the lack of Sam in S3. I was good until this weekend, all summer blissfully pretending that he would be back. After seeing the spoilers and reading some of the crap Ryan Murphy has been spouting of late, I know that's not true. I'm so worried that I will be even more disappointed on the 20****th**** than I am now, so in an attempt to cheer myself up I have written a little one-shot to get out all of the venom I have right now, so that I can continue the next chapter of 'Samcedes Summer in LA' with a smile on my face. I fear that if I don't, Sam is going to be in that damn wheelchair forever. Sorry for any silly mistakes, this just flew out of me.**

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><p><strong>PROLOGUE<strong>

For yet another morning, she wakes with his name on her lips, panting, climax still cresting through her body. Languishing in the feeling for a few moments, Mercedes climbs out of bed and prepares for the first day of her senior year of high school.

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><p><strong>THE STORY<strong>

Mercedes takes one deep breath as she forces herself from the car. She has to go into that building, to those classes; she has to show everyone that she's doing really well. She's lost a little weight thanks to a slightly adventurous summer, she has a new boyfriend who's on the football team, and she was ready to bring it this year in Glee club. Playing second fiddle to Yentil was last year's game; this year was the year of Mercedes. She could see Jacob Ben Israel making his way down the hallway, microphone in hand, followed by a student cameraman, insulting her fellow gleeks as he walked.

She just stands there, taking it all in, hoping that he wouldn't make it to her before the late bell rings.

_Poor Finn_, she thinks, _Rachel really did a number on him. Those two were back and forth all summer, and they're currently forth, with Rachel wanting Jesse to help guide her through this critical senior year. Finn just looks lost._

_Tina and Mike aren't doing much better. After all this time together, Mike was going off to college at the end of the year and Tina will be left behind, with…Artie? I don't know; she doesn't look like she's taking it so well, her hair has lost all of its fun colors and her outfit just looks blah. And Artie, why he's staying another year is beyond me. He's smart enough that he's caught up and could graduate with my class if he wanted to. I think he's afraid of the real world._

_And don't even get me started on Quinn. Pink hair notwithstanding, she just reeks of desperation if you ask me. Coach won't let her cheer again, so she's gone all rebel, tramp stamp and all. She must not have gotten the memo that real bad-asses don't get a tattoo of Ryan Seacrest. _

_Speaking of real bad-asses, looks like at some point over the summer Puck decided that it just wasn't worth it trying to get into Lauren Zizes good graces. That's the first time I've seen him check out another girl since they got together last year. I bet she quits glee club now that he's quit chasing her. _

She snorts as she sees Kurt pulling Blaine behind him, in slow motion, down the hall. _I give it a week before he's out of that stuffy Dalton blazer, and singing with the cheerios in pink sunglasses and hot pants._

Jacob is heading her way, mike at the ready, asking, "Mercedes Jones, how was your summer, as if I have to ask."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, just that we heard that you _finally _managed to snag yourself a man. Is it true? Finally not alone?"

Before she can form an answer, the man in question walks over to them. Having a boyfriend who was 6'4" and weighed more than her and JBI combined had its benefits, and one of them being the ability to squash little Jewfros like bugs on the whims of their girlfriends'. JBI offers her a 'matzeltov' and quickly decides that it's time to move on; gleeks were like a dime a dozen, and there were always more if you knew where to look.

Her phone buzzes alerting her of an incoming text. She looks down and is a happy and sad all at once. She can see her 'now' Marcus walking her down the hallway escorting her to Glee, because he is such a gentleman, but she can see her 'then' Sam, the name attached to the text, too. Both make her smile and yet both make her frown, so in the end she looks neutral. Marcus is trying to tell her about something stupid Finn did at football practice the day before. Putting on her best 'I'm happy to see you face' as she takes Marcus's hand, she looks down to check the text message, and then without warning she starts laughing. Marcus assumes that he must have said something funny. He didn't, but the text did: COURAGE ;). She thinks, _You cheeky bastard._

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><p><strong>EPILOGUE<strong>

He had been gone for over two months now and every morning and every night were spent like those last amazing weeks they had together. He had been so patient at first, thinking that they had all of the time in the world together. Since prom they had been together, stealing kisses, and hugs, holding hands under tables, touching discretely as they passed each other in the halls. In New York he'd wanted to tell everyone, and they would have, if it had not been for their crushing loss. The end of school came and went so quickly that only one of their friends had figured it out, in the Lima Bean of all places. Only a month and a half later they found out that, come August, he would be back in his all-boys school in Tennessee, and she would be alone in Lima, once more. Together for only two months and already the end was drawing near. They only had a month to say good-bye, so the time for patience had passed. He told her that he loved her, silly boy, and she believed him. She loved him too. They decided that everything they were saving for later had to happen now, before he left her. Money wasn't a problem anymore. His father was already back in Tennessee working, sending money to them in Lima. His grandparents had given them enough to get out of the motel until they could move to Tennessee. He quit his stupid job at the pizza place and spent every spare moment of those last few weeks with her, showing her that he would never forget her, showing her that she was special, showing her that he had fallen quickly, he had fallen truly, he had fallen madly, and that he had fallen deeply. She wanted to show him that he had shown her love, real romantic love; a love that she still went to each night when she closed her eyes, and although she woke alone, she always awoke to her favorite vision, his green eyes hovering above her face.

…

Once the news broke they began in earnest. She wanted to cry, but he swiftly convinced her that crying would solve nothing, and that there were other ways to comfort each other. He kissed away all of her tears. Then he told them of his plan. He argued that Kurt owed her and she reluctantly agreed. She knew about breakfast at Tiffany's, singing on the Broadway stage, and plans to share an apartment in New York next year after graduation. Kurt would cover for them, he had to. She'd convinced her parents that she was spending an outrageous amount of time with Kurt. They knew of their distance last year and didn't argue.

….

Camping with Sam was an experience she will never forget. Never did she, a tried and true diva, think that she would ever spend so much time outside, but it was easier to be together that way and there was hardly anyone ever around to hear their screams. _Not_ that the entire time was spent searing every inch of each other's bodies into their memories forever, trying to do everything they thought they had more time to do, at least until the end of the year to do, in a few mere weeks. They hiked, fished, watched stars, sunsets, and sunrises too.

But let's not kid ourselves; they had sex, lots of sex. They had every kind that they were willing to do, with every part of their body that they could maneuver to engage, and everything in between.

There was first time sex for both of them. It was rushed and frantic, but still good. They knew that they had a little time to get better at it, to make it more memorable, so that they both would never forget. There wasn't time for either of them to be shy about anything, and one moment they were fully clothed and the next moment, he was marveling at how beyond beautiful she was. He was so big, at first she wondered how everything was going to fit, but after a few tries, and even fewer tears, and lots of kisses, everything was exactly where it was supposed to be, and god was it so good. He was made to fit her, practically to overfilling.

There was sweet slow sex to be savored, under the stars, glistening in the summer moonlight. This one was more soft moans, shudders, and locked eyes. It always ended in quiet whispers of forever loves, gentle wet kisses, hands tangled in each other hair, and promises of other nothings.

There was hard fast sex, in broad daylight, in a quiet clearing or just off a trail somewhere; wearing most of their clothes, so they could pull away if they needed to if someone were to come along. No one ever did, but it was so exciting to think it could happen. Sam always looked at her like a tiger hunting his prey whenever it happened, and like a tiger, he'd pounce without warning, just a moment's look in his eyes that they had talked enough, or hiked enough, or sat in silence long enough. Then he'd take her on all fours, while saying the naughtiest things he could about her glorious assets.

There was hot sweaty sex wrapped up in the double sleeping bag under the stars, a tangle of slick limbs, rolling around, in and through, over and under. He would hover over her, with a bead of liquid rolling down the edge of his nose, his hair askew, eyes gleaming. He would take his tongue and lick along the sides of her breasts, tasting the salt on her skin. He would take his tongue and lick along the sides of her thighs, to taste more than the salt running down her legs. Everything was to be devoured, savored, and cherished.

There was silent sex. They sat up, eye to eye, linked arm in arm. He held her; she held him, both afraid to stop, and both afraid to close their eyes; both not wanting it to end. This always brought tears and an extra dazzling rush of ecstasy at the release. They always held each other afterwards, rubbing strong hands along one another's backs, willing the tears to stop, both praying that it was a dream that they would wake up from, and still be together.

There was naughty sex, the kind that involved toys and hair pulling, and pain, but just a little. He lost all control with a good tug of the hair and a nip on the collarbone. They acquired hickies, little bite marks, and scratches that would make them stammer and blush if they ever had to explain them. On that last night they'd both gotten a bit carried away and left marks, tiny reminders that would never go away, and would always be with them, always remind them of their love. Just touching that small scar near her left breast made her grow hot. Touching his did the same.

It was love they were making, and love they didn't want to give up.

…

By the time he'd left, she was pretty sure that both of their parents knew what was going on, but figured it didn't really matter at this point. He was gone now, they'd been responsible, and no harm had been done. Mercedes knew that wasn't entirely true.

….

She'd met Marcus almost immediately after he left, at some church celebration, erroneously assuming that he could fill the hole left in her heart when Sam left. Almost as quickly she knew that she was wrong. Her parents offered no help because they never knew how serious she was about Sam and so they practically forced her onto Marcus. At first Sam was upset, but he realized that maybe it was better this way. At first he was worried that his place in her heart would be dislodged, and although she described to him the perfect boyfriend, gentleman, and friend, he heard what she felt, and could not say.

…

Poor Marcus never stood a chance. He never once made a wrong turn, never once said a harsh word, never once upset her, and never once even caused her any kind of distress. To everyone around them he was perfect for her, except that he wasn't. She holds his hand and thinks, _this hand is too big, there are no calluses from guitar strings rubbing against my skin, these fingers don't lace in my as if they were made for me_. She kisses him and thinks,_ his lips are too small, he moves in the wrong direction, and breathes at the wrong time, why should we have to stop if we are doing this right? Because we are doing this all wrong._ She looks at his face and thinks, _even now I still expect those eyes to be green and that grin to be more lopsided._ Packing for a daytrip with their church group he looks at her amazed as she stuffed outfit after outfit into her tiny rectangular blue travel case, and she says 'well you know what they say', and he didn't. She thinks, _your line is 'It's bigger on the inside'. _

After a smashingly wonderful dinner with her parents she thinks, _It's not his fault; Marcus is the perfect boyfriend. But that position has already been filled. He never stood a chance. _

…

She had broken up with Sam months ago, but they were still friends. She realizes that she has to break things off with Marcus. It had been nice while it lasted, but she never let go of Sam in her heart. It was time for everyone to stop pretending. At no point would she ever say, "Sam who?"

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><p><strong>EPILOGUE II—one year later<strong>

She'd just finished saying good-bye to her parents, and looked around her dorm room. Her roommates all seemed nice enough. There was a quiet knock on her door. She hears one of her roommates say that there was someone at the door named Sam. The other girls look around confused, asking "Sam who?"

Mercedes just smiles and walks quietly to the door.

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><p><em>This is the love story that cannot end, yes it will go on and on my friends, some people started shipping it not knowing what it was, and they'll continue shipping it forever just because….this the love story that cannot end, yes it will go on and on my friends….<em>

(Sing it Lambchop!)

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><p><strong>End Notes:<strong>

I'm feeling so much better now. I must go and write, right now!


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. Luckily it seems as if certain show creators have finally gotten a clue.**

**CH2: Ask Sam how, why, what, and when, but never who**

**A/N: Welcome back Sam! Bye-Bye {Never Gonna Be Sam Wanna-Be}! Had to; too happy not to.**

**Please forgive any mistakes. This was done with a quickness.**

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><p><strong>Part One: The Break-Up<strong>

Giving him a small apologetic smile she says, "It's not you, it's me. I just never got over Sam. He—" Her now ex-boyfriend makes a sudden grab for her hands.

Mercedes pulls back to avoid his touch as he stands there mouth agape in shock and disbelief. "Look, baby, just—just give me, no us more time. It's only been a few months."

Shaking her head resolutely, she says, "No. Now, a few months, forever; it doesn't matter how long. It will never be enough time. This was never going to work."

As he watches her disappear into the packed hallway, he mutters aloud, "Sam, Sam who?"

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><p><strong>Part Two: The Unnecessary Question<strong>

It is the last day before winter break, and Mercedes Jones is counting down the minutes. In just a few days she is going to take a three hour long road trip with Puck to see Sam. To meet him halfway, just as friends, but her hear is still soaring at the thought.

He can see her walking down the hallway towards her locker before school. She is moving slowly and rushing all at the same time. He can tell that she didn't want to be there, and that she is already somewhere else in her mind. To him, having not seen her before him with only a few yards between them in so long, she looks like a hot snow bunny in a fitted white waist length winter coat with a fur trimmed hood.

He had wanted to surprise her, but when she unzipped her coat and shoved it into the locker; all of his plans went out of the window. She is a vision in light lavender cashmere. Wrapped head to mid-thigh in a tight in all of the right places sweater dress with a loose neckline that won't stop teasing his eyes with glimpses of cleavage. Clinging around the curve of her backside, it makes him groan low in his throat. And the boots, that's what really did him in. They were black, well heeled, suede, and didn't stop. He is determined to let his hands find the tops of those boots under that soft lavender fringe.

He starts stalking towards her, taking long languorous strides. His progress draws some looks, but no one says 'hi', no one says 'welcome back', and absolutely no one gets in his way. He is a tiger, on the hunt, and no one stands between him and his prey. The sheep give him a wide berth.

Silently he wraps one large hand over her eyes. His other arm works its way around her waist, the hand coming to rest on her soft round tail. They are melded together once more, his breath coming in hot small pants against her ear and neck.

She smiles, her body not needing to wait for her brain to decipher what's happening. She is already starting to react, her breath coming faster, her nipples hardening, and at treasured remembered pleasures a moist warmth spreading and flooding places below. It is said that within weeks new mothers can identify their babies just by the touch of their little hands. Mercedes and Sam had but a few long passionate weeks to catalogue every ridge, every feature, every smell, every sound, every feel and every touch.

He doesn't need to ask 'Guess who?' She already knows.

She spins around to meet his green eyes. He dips his head down to kiss her. It's tentative at first, slow, savoring, then with increasing intensity. As they kiss they drift into the center of the hallway. It is as if they have slipped into their very own rift in the time space continuum. Time is passing beautifully slow for them, while everyone around them seems not to see, not too care, traveling a regular pace. Well almost everyone.

Only one person seems to stop, to notice, to see, and he thinks to himself that it truly was over. That any number of girls could be his trophy girl, because clearly Mercedes Jones was always one man's prize. He honestly thought that maybe, just maybe they were going to reconcile. Looking at them he knows that was never going to happen. With just one touch she was back into the open arms of another.

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><p><strong>Part Three: Questions Worth Asking<strong>

…**Sam Where?**

Where can we go to give each other the type of greeting necessary? Don't worry; it's not too difficult to find an empty unlocked classroom. They are unbelievably abundant at William McKinley High School.

…**Sam How?**

How can you do this to me without me even seeing you? Without a word, only the familiar touch of your hands after these long months?

…**Sam Why?**

Why are you trying to get me out of this dress? Boy, we are in school and that is SO not happening. But…

…**Sam What?**

What? You are looking for the tops of my boots? I can tell you with a certainty that your long, strong, gentle searching fingers have wandered a bit too far up.

…**Sam When?**

When will you take me…there, yesssss. Right there….Please don't stop….Ssssoo close. Ssam when? Oh, now…SSSAAAAMMMM….

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><p><strong>Le Conclusion<strong>

As he holds her in his arms, her legs rendered totally useless by his fantastic body plundering fingers, panting, trying to clear her head and eyes of the stars, a lot of questions are running through her mind.

However, let's be quite certain. Mercedes Patrice Jones will never ask, 'Sam who?'


End file.
